Ever since i could remember i've always hated sports, even though we've always had a sports class all the way from grade school upto university. The memory that stands out the most was when one day our gym teacher divided our entire class into groups of 4 and told us we'd do a relay race with the stipulation that each group that lost would have to do 50 push-ups and 30 laps. Now, i've never been the most physically fit or sports enthusiastic person out there and i was arguably the slowest person in the class but what made the already bad situation worse was that in my relay team i was to go last, meaning the other 3 runners on my team, who were actually way faster than i was, would go before me and hand me the baton to finish the race. This basically meant the outcome for our team was dependent on my performance. The first two guys on my team did pretty good in the race actually maintaining second place and as the baton was handed to the third guy i could see we actually had chance of winning because he was running tied for first place. As he came round the corner, i then realized that the people i was supposed to run against, were the fastest sprinters in our class and if we were to lose the race it'd be very clear that it was my fault. So as the third runner reached out to hand me the baton i knew there was only one thing i could do, so i dropped the baton and made it look like it was his fault. Our team inevitably lost, but everyone blamed the third runner for dropping the baton and causing the loss.
Moral of the story: It doesn't matter whether you win or lose, it's who gets the blame at the end of the game.